


Kintsukuroi

by Detroness



Series: A Snake in the Cuckoo's Nest [2]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Female Protagonist, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Multi, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-22 18:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroness/pseuds/Detroness
Summary: Kintsugi (n.)the Japanese art form of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with gold or similar material, highlighting the cracks instead of disguising them. The art of kintsugi is called Kintsukuroi which means "mending with gold".
Relationships: Lady Argent/Sidestep, Ortega/Sidestep (Fallen Hero), Ortega/Sidestep/Lady Argent
Series: A Snake in the Cuckoo's Nest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493861
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _We are made of all those who have built and broken us. ― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild_

**Vulpes Lagopus**

You were born on a Thursday. Well, saying you were born is a stretch. More like hatched, if you’re feeling generous. Or morbid.

And from day one, you were a disappointment. Both of you. From the moment the Asset opens its mouth. No, her mouth. You’re supposed to be a cuckoo. An infiltrator. A tool. You’re not supposed to be noticed unless you’re ordered to.

Having a daemon that’s the same sex as you is the exact opposite of your purpose.

Your handlers separated the two of you, rewarding your cries with more pain. Hours later when you’re out of tears, numb, and voiceless, they drag you out of your stupor and make no bones about their disappointment. How you’re already under the gun. The only thing stopping them from immediately releasing you from the program is the fact that you were worth a pretty penny.

You’re not human. You are a tool, created for a single purpose. Call sign: B20. Your ‘daemon’, K15, is not real. She’s just another tool. Having no daemon would be worse than having a daemon of the same sex. You don’t have a soul, not like a human. You have no worth beyond your ability as a telepath and a cuckoo. And these are the ways you can blend into human society, the ways you and your Asset should operate among humans. Observe, interact, but never connect.

All of that is drilled into your head. Yours and every other cuckoo along with you.

When the day finally comes, months later, K15 and the rest of the ‘daemons’ are reintroduced, explicitly for the purpose of feigning a human daemon connection. By now, you’re intimately aware of the pain of separation. To the point where it’s become second nature to live in your own skin, constantly in pain, constantly empty. It’s better than nothing, you believe.

Soulless. But can you even be considered soulless if you weren’t even human to begin with?

When you brush your fingertips against her nose, a tidal wave of emotions slams against the levees. Longing. Deprivation. Desperation. Despair. Hope.

You turn away when that last emotion washes over you. From that point, you hate it. Hate K15 and all that she stands for. You swear to yourself that you don’t need her. That’s what they trained you for, isn’t it?

As you leave for the door, one thought lingers like a sliver in your brain. You wish she didn’t exist. That you’d been born without a ‘daemon’. Anything would’ve been better than this.

You don’t care that you miss out on the way her tiny shoulders slump. The look of despair that crosses her vulpine features.

The day you were born is the first and last day she speaks another word to you for a long time.

**Buteo Jamaicensis**

You’re fifteen and a half when you’re sent on your first mission. Months ahead of schedule, ahead of the competition. It’s a point of pride for you.

The objective?

Befriend Alice Finch. Daughter of Senator Finch. Get close to her, and by extension, close to him. Gather information in order to discredit him from the upcoming election. Maybe create a scandal if your handlers decide you need to go that far.

You’re not B20 and K15.

Your name is Vanessa. Vanessa Williams. K15 is Muninn.

She’s shucked her arctic fox form, favoring a red tailed hawk this time.

You think it suits her. Hawks aren’t exactly cuddly or cute or approachable. Sharp beaks, wicked talons. A predator through and through.

Such a contrast to Alice’s Tomix. He’s a shiba inu. He suits her, though. They’re quite a pair. You’re jealous of them.

It’s… different. It’s one thing to learn how to interact among humans. It’s another thing to be among them.

You can’t fail. You won’t. So, you don’t.

Alice is an entirely different creature, literally and figuratively. She doesn’t mask her emotions or her intentions. Even without your telepathy, it’s easy to read her, to predict what she’ll do based on her body language. It makes her easy to manipulate.

You wouldn’t admit it, but you… enjoy spending time with her. It’s nice being treated like a human. Eating human food, socializing like a human. Alice, unknowingly, is an excellent teacher. You learn a lot. Information that’s relevant to the mission and information that’s not so relevant.

Like how to braid hair. It takes a whole evening, but she’s a patient teacher, even when you snag your fingers in her blonde hair on multiple occasions. You remember how your heart pounded with anxiety at the start of the lesson. There was no room for failure. Your heart no longer pounded whenever your handlers tested you. You knew what to expect for your failures.

Braiding her hair was the first time, in a long time, that your heart raced in your chest.

The idea of failing and not receiving severe consequences? That frightened you more than a gun pressed against your forehead, ready to fire.

You don’t miss the way Muninn peers at the both of you with her black gaze from across the room.

It’s on the day that you’re going to walk out of Alice’s life, leaving behind ruins with the information you’ve gathered and planted, when Muninn perches on your shoulder. It’s not the first time she’s done that. You both need to keep up appearances. But it’s the first time she’s touched your skin. Her tail feathers gently brush the back of your neck.

You’re tempted to swat her off, pain be damned, but Alice envelops you into a hug. The gesture is soft but firm and it hurts like a knife to the kidney. It takes all your willpower not to shake, to throw her off, to throw K15 off, to keep up appearances. It hurts so much. You haven’t felt this kind of longing since your fingers brushed K15’s nose back then. You shut your eyes as you return her hug, hiding your tears.

You aren’t human. You’re not allowed to feel human, to cry. You’re a tool. And a tool shouldn’t experience longing.

K15 ruffles her feathers in lieu of your predicament.

Good.

At least you’re not the only one suffering here.

Later as you debrief your handlers, something stirs in your chest. You ignore it.

They question why Asset K15 assumed her form and you give your answer. The one they want to hear. Hawk eyes are superior to almost any other creature in the animal kingdom. As such, K15 taking this form would be excellent for collecting information.

You’re dismissed. They’re satisfied with your efforts, your explanation. You're loyal. They don't worry about you. They trust you as a tool fulfilling its purpose.

You leave without another word as something coils in your chest. It seems that neither of you are inclined to tell the whole truth. To your handlers or to yourselves.

Before you retire to your room for the night, you look back over your shoulder. It’s the first time you’re the one to make eye contact with her and it’s the first time she holds your gaze.

It’s only seven months later when the two of you take wing, leaving the Farm behind.

**Athene Cunicularia**

“Hey. You’re Sidestep, right?”

You flinch, tightening your grip on the railing to make sure you don’t fall off from surprise. You look down to see Marshal Charge looking right back up at your mask with a wide smile on her face.

“That’s what they call me,” you say with a shrug, thankful for the mask and how it hides where your gaze shifts. A large brown bear ambles over and then rears up on its hindlegs, looking equally curious as the Marshal.

“You mind coming down for a bit? For a chat?”

You tilt your head to the side as you skim your mental fingertips across her mind. It’s something new. You can’t read her mind. You know it’s there, but it’s like the hum of an electric motor.

Silently, K flutters down from her perch, landing on your shoulder. She tilts her head as she peers down at the pair below, curious yet wary. Wordlessly, you hop down from the railing, landing just a few feet in front of Marshal Charge. As usual, K elects to remain out of the spotlight, but you don’t miss the way Marshal Charge’s daemon seems to try and have a staring contest.

Shit.

Up close, you never realized how tall either of them were before now.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask as you cross your arms over your chest.

“On behalf of the Rangers, I wanted to say thanks. That was some quick thinking you did back there,” Charge says with a smile.

“No big deal.” You shrug as you uncross your arms, turning slightly away.

“So humble,” Charge says with a teasing grin on her face. It quickly vanishes. “I’m serious. Themmy tells me you’re one of the good ones.”

“You don’t say,” you mutter, skepticism dripping from your tone.

A contemplative look crosses Charge’s features as she assesses you. K is still up on the railing, rocking her head side to side. It’s a familiar look. One you’ve received many times before, but it’s different this time. You don’t think Charge is looking for flaws, not like your handlers, but something else.

And that scares you.

Just the slightest.

“Have you ever considered becoming an official hero?”

“No.”

Despite your sharp reply, Charge doesn’t lose her smile.

“What about working with us? Like today.”

“Like what? A consultant?” you sardonically ask, only half joking.

Charge laughs. “Sounds good to me. What do you say, Sidestep?”

You blink, surprised, before you narrow your eyes beneath your mask.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll see you at HQ. 8AM?”

Behind the mask, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow as your lips quirk up in amusement.

“Sounds like a date,” you reply.

She stutters, coughs, and then manages to send you a grin.

“Sounds great. See you tomorrow, Sidestep.”

**Dendroaspis Polylepis**

Seven months.

That’s how long it’s been since you’ve escaped; since you’ve been slinking from one fox hole to the next.

You don’t want to return to Los Diablos yet. It’d be stupid to run back there, especially so quickly. That’d be the first place they would look for you. Your heart gives a sick thump and you pull the blanket tighter against your body.

There’s a pressure in your throat and -

“K,” you mutter, tugging at the snake wrapped around your neck. In response, the daemon simply tightens her grip. With a grunt, you let her be, fairly confident she won’t kill the both of you.

You sigh as you turn away from the window, slipping back into the cooling bed. Without a word, K slithers around your torso, wrapping herself too tightly around your body.

The feeling is mutual.

**Scolopendra Subspinipes Mutilans**

_“Next stop: Los Diablos.”_

You shiver. It almost feels like coming home. You close your eyes, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You should have waited a few more days but the weather wouldn’t allow it. So like an idiot you pounced on the, seemingly, last chance before the hurricane could fuck up your plans even further.

Idiot.

You flinch and glare out the window. You can feel K skittering on the back of your neck. Ever since you started this trip, she’s made it plain she is not happy. Honestly, you think she’s chosen this form deliberately to make this harder for the both of you. Frankly, you don’t know how much longer you can stand her shitty attitude.

You’ve contemplated just leaving her somewhere. It’s not like the distance would hurt you.

“Ow! You fucker,” you hiss, bolting upright.

When the train finally comes to a stop, you force yourself to walk at a normal pace. You’re caught between wanting to sprint and never wanting to get off the train. The doors shut behind you and it feels like a nail in the coffin.

You pull your hood over your head. It’s drizzling. Enough for a fast paced walk to look normal. As you walk past an electronics store, you come to a halt.

And it hits you like a brick.

Julia.

A shudder works its way through your body and you let yourself believe it’s because of your now rain soaked clothes.

Your collar shifts and K’s antennae brush against the lower side of your jaw as she curves herself into the shape of an S. Loss and longing echo through the bond as the two of you stare at the screen, even after the segment about the Rangers’ latest victory has finished and the news anchors are moving onto the next story.

_We’re home._

**Limenitis Archippus & Crotalus Cerastes**

You don’t know what’s worse.

The sense of wrongness never goes away, no matter how many times you pilot Eden’s body.

Eden’s daemon had already turned to dust when you stole her body from the hospital.

The obvious conclusion from there was that K needed to masquerade as Eden’s daemon whenever you needed to conduct business as your puppet.

The alternative? Well, you have mixed feelings about that too. There’s no way else to describe it but a collision. An explosion. It never fails to bring you back to the day you were reintroduced to K at The Farm. The punch to your gut collision of relief, disgust, and vertigo when your mind returns back to your body.

On the bad days, K will resume her regular shape and sulk far away from you, usually on the other side of your dingy apartment.

On the good days, she’ll linger by your side, steadily slithering closer and closer until she’s wrapped around your neck like a scarf.

Neither of you mention it.

Just like neither of you mention the fact that you’re going to meet up with the Rangers by the end of the week.

It’s a mess.

You’re both idiots.

And you’re up shit creek without a paddle.

**Archilochus Colubris & Agkistrodon Piscivorus**

“Go away,” you grunt, shooting K a glare as she flits back and forth across the luxurious room. In contrast to the upscale living room, ice cream cartons litter the ground and various furniture items.

It’s a mess.

You’re a mess.

Shit.

Why did you do it? A connection? To feel… human?

A broken laugh claws its way from your throat.

You’re not human. You’ll never be human. You're a fucking idiot to even consider that. And you fucked up trying to be human. Trying to have a human connection.

With a hum, K zips by your head and perches on the handle of your last spoon. She tilts her head at you, black eyes mirror images of yours, as she ruffles her green feathers. An unspoken question thrums in the bond, like a plucked guitar string.

Wordlessly, you get up and get moving. Anything’s better than this right now.

Eventually, your feet find you in the lobby of the Rangers’ HQ.

What are you doing here?

It’s starting to become a habit. And shit, it’s not like you need more bad habits. 

“If you’re stealing my food, drop it right now.”

You jump.

Shit.

“I thought you’d be delighted by some good news?” you ask, quirking your lips at her.

This is familiar. You can do this.

“I think you’re underestimating my capacity for delight right now,” Argent says with a mixture of boredom and disdain painting her silvery features. Her daemon, Dimah, chuffs, regarding you with an equally bored expression on her feline features.

“You’re handling everything alright then?”

“It’s handled.”

“Good. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Tired of what?”

“None of your business.”

“Charming,” you remark with a sly smile.

“Only for you. You’re here for a reason other than raiding the fridge?”

“I’m here to see you, actually.”

Argent quirks an eyebrow at that as Dimah pauses her grooming.

"You already said your piece, didn't you?"

"Well, I was thinking we could discuss it more in depth, somewhere private."

"Talk about what?" Argent asks, looking intrigued. In fact, both of them look intrigued. "Are you trying to be friendly or something?"

"Why not?" You shrug as K makes herself known.

It’s not hard to miss the way Dimah’s pupils go wide as she stares at your shoulder.

Interesting.

Looks like it’s not just the claws both human and daemon have in common with cats after all.

Good to know.

You don’t detect any nervousness from K. In fact, she seems to be feeling a tiny bit mischievous at the whole situation. Hopefully, she doesn’t encourage Dimah to tackle you off your feet anytime soon. Or lead the tiger across a wild goose chase around headquarters.

"We have a lot of things in common."

"Like what?" she teases.

“Maybe I just want you to put your hands on me again?” you suggest as you trace your finger down the column of your throat. For her part, K flutters her wings, letting the light play on her feathers.

Well if that’s not pointing a laser pointer on the ground in front of a cat or throwing blood in shark infested waters, you don't know what is.

Although, this may be the pot calling the kettle black…

"And here most people would steer clear after that kind of experience," Argent muses, looking more amused than annoyed.

"I'm not most people." You flash her a grin.

"True," she admits as her eyes assess you. "You like living dangerously."

"Comes with the territory.”

Both of you share a knowing glance and even your daemons settle into a knowing stillness.

"I've got time later today,” Argent says, breaking the silence. “In case you want to talk more in private."

"Well," you drawl, keeping your smirk under control. "I've got a very busy schedule, so who knows?"

"Don't try to play me, you cocky little shit." Her eyes flash and Dimah snarls as she jolts to her paws, tail lashing from side to side.

"Peace, I was trying to..."

"Be Ortega?" she suggests with a wicked little grin.

"Hey now. That's uncalled for," you say as you lower your hands down from their placating position.

"What did I do now?" Ortega's voice cuts through the room, and the two of you turn to face her as one.

Did Argent hiss? Maybe. It’s unmistakable that that growl was Dimah’s however.

"None of your business," she snaps, and Ortega actually takes a step back along with Kataba.

"Hey, I'm sorry Angie? I didn't know I interrupted anything..." Julia trails off as a look of surprise spreads across her face. It's not hard to miss the way she stares at you, stares at your lip.

"Take a picture. It’ll last longer," you snap, not bothering to hide the bite in your tone.

"Your lip." She touches her own in sympathy. "That looks swollen."

“Some people don’t know how to kiss,” you say, not bothering to hide your glare or how it’s aimed at Argent.

Fuck it, you’re jumping in with both feet.

“You knew what you were getting into,” Argent teases as a cheshire grin lights up her face.

“Wait. What?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you’ve had a snack every time we make out?” you ask as you leisurely circle around Julia.

“But?”

You can’t help but grin at Julia’s confusion.

“Maybe you are the snack,” Argent suggests as she slides off the table, choosing to mimic your circling but from the opposite direction.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Julia remarks, looking increasingly wary. Not that you blame her.

“Because you’re not the one kissing people, for once?” you challenge with a smirk on your face.

“No. Yes.” Julia turns to Argent. “I mean… why?”

Argent licks her lips as she eyes you. “I felt like it.”

Shocked does not begin to even describe the expression on Julia’s face as she looks at you for confirmation.

“She jumped me,” you offer with a shrug before letting your gaze purposefully wonder to the wall.

“Not that I minded,” you add, letting your gaze slide back to meet Julia’s for effect.

It works and she sputters. You can almost see the cogs grinding to a halt in her mind.

You grin.

“Oh boy.” Julia sighs. “Everyone calm down.”

“You’re the only one fretting,” Argent innocently points out with a smile on her face.

“You’re the one that kissed my -” She stutters. “girlfriend!”

You raise an eyebrow at this. “That’s news to me.”

A frown settles on her face and something coils uncomfortably in your chest.

“But I thought we were…”

Idiot. You are such a fucking idiot. And shit at communicating sometimes.

Actually, scratch that. All the time.

“Not friending anything. Just kissing.”

No labels, is left unsaid but you think she’ll pick it up.

“Like with her?” Julia asks, jerking her thumb at Argent.

You smirk, unabashedly. “She bites. You don’t.”

“She’s just mad I didn’t kiss her,” Argent teases with a smirk to match your own. “Someone flirted pretty heavily when I joined.”

“I’m not! I mean... I did... mierda!" Ortega groans loudly, giving her an accusing stare. "You know what? I was. But after this, no. I like my lips in one piece."

"Chicken," you tease, the word that annoys her most of all. K, ever the comedian, chooses to shift into a chicken, clucking.

"What did you say?" Ortega looks between the two of you, and you make sure to look as smug as possible. K clucks for good measure.

"You heard me," you repeat, holding her gaze even after Julia breaks it to send a questioning glance at Argent.

"Don't get me involved in this," Argent says with an amused chuckle.

"You started it!"

"Fine," Lady Argent looks like she thinks the whole situation is hilarious, and part of you agrees.

Confident, she walks over and then plants a kiss on Ortega's lips, pulling back with a loud smack.

"There, now you're even."

"Oookay?" Ortega blinks and rubs her lips. "Thank you and what the hell?"

"You didn't bite her!"

"She hasn't messed up yet," Argent says with a wink.

You suppress a low growl as K slithers up to your shoulders, puffing up in disagreement.

It’s easy to walk up to Ortega, pull her down to your height, and kiss her and more. For once, K looks positively smug.

“She has,” you say, giving them both a glare. Out of the corner of your eye, Julia presses her fingers to her mouth. No blood. Just surprise.

“Okay," Ortega mumbles, fingers still pressed against her lip. "This has better not be some sort of zombie outbreak because we already have too much on our plate."

"Hardly,” you say, sardonic, with a smile like a knife on your lips. “Just punishments for past sins."

"Mierda!" Ortega throws her hands up, and you haven't seen her this rattled since the time the goat took a dump in her car. "You're ganging up on me!"

The look on her face is unusually frazzled.

When Argent takes a step towards her, she turns tail and heads back out the door, leaving you and Lady Argent looking at each other like you've just achieved some sort of victory.

"That didn't go the way I planned," you remark as you stare at the door, eyebrow raised, but Ortega is gone.

Huh. That's new.

"I didn't plan on you biting her," Lady Argent cackles, petting your shoulder. "Nice touch."

"It probably hurt me more,” you admit as your prod your lip, wondering if the taste of blood in your mouth is Ortega's or yours.

"Do you mind?" She tilts her head, silver hair flowing down the side like a waterfall.

"What?" You frown. "The bite? I deserve it." A small price to pay for her not turning you in.

"You know what I mean." Her look is sharp.

You shrug and look away, avoiding the knife's edge.

For now.

"I thought you wanted me to stay out of your head?" You know what she's implying but you're not going to play that game.

"Been wanting to kiss her for a while now." Argent looks over towards the door, chewing on her lower lip, teeth sharp but not piercing the skin.

"Why didn't you? I was dead for years. No competition,” you say as your tone turns deadpan towards the end. Like you’re listing off a fact.

Dead and gone and forgotten. Lady Argent would have had no issues moving in, she's Julia’s type, just the right kind of crazy.

"You really don't get how messed up she was over your death, do you?" She's frowning as she looks you over, unsure of how much is faked or real. "No competition like lost loves."

"Let's not get into that.” Now it’s your turn to look away as you stifle a groan, because you do not want to get into what Ortega did or did not feel over your death.

"You still could have made a move,” you point out, looking at Argent out of the corner of your eyes.

"I didn't want to take the risk." The shrug is crafted to look nonchalant. "She's not expendable."

"And I am?" you ask, turning back to face her completely. K flicks out her tongue in response. Neither of you are sure what she means. Expendable? There's layers to that word you can't peel back.

Yet.

"So far. We'll see if things change, I -"

"And one more thing!" Ortega's head pops back in, followed by the rest of her, restless energy filling the kitchen like a thunderstorm, interrupting Argent's confession.

"That was fast," she remarks as she and Dimah draw themselves up like a cat spotting prey.

"I thought you'd be halfway to Hoots by now," you snipe as you cross your arms, sending her a challenging look over the rim of your glasses.

"You, shut up." Ortega points at you, and you find yourself blinking in surprise as she stomps over to Argent, sweeping her up in her arms, planting a deep kiss on her silver lips before letting her go. You've got time to raise your hands in half-hearted protest before she does the same to you, the softness of her lips a stark contrast to her determination.

"Oh..." the small sigh that slips out as she breaks the kiss is yours. Maybe.

Or… it might’ve been K hissing in surprise.

Hmm. That sounds about right.

"Now I can go have a drink." Ortega gives you both one final glare, then stomps back out, leaving you and Argent in breathless silence.

"Trust her to get the last word in." Lady Argent looks half amused, half annoyed. You know the feeling.

"You do realize she's probably going to keep doing that," you dryly point out as you suppress a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into now?

Deeper shit. That's what. Like an idiot, as usual.

"I will admit I didn't plan this far." She still looks amused, and far softer than you're used to seeing her. "Do you mind?"

You chuckle as fondness curls in your chest, making itself at home. “No, I’m just surprised.”

“Can't say I'm in the habit of this," Argent admits. "Kissing people. One or two."

"Kissing is the easy part," you admit. The kissing you can handle, but the entanglements that comes with it… K, having situated herself like a venomous scarf around your neck, nudges you with her tail.

"Nothing needs to change. You do what you promised. I'll keep my mouth shut. Ortega keeps being confused."

"We shouldn't talk about this here..." You look around, there's too much of a security system here to make you comfortable to even allude to what you've done.

"Nobody's listening." Lady Argent doesn't look worried.

"And you would know?" you ask as your eyes narrow from behind your glasses, brushing mental fingers over her. She doesn't feel worried either.

"I turned the mikes off." Her smile is sharp and filled with mischief. "You would notice if someone was coming."

"Not Ortega," you point out, a moment before you realize your mistake as her eyes narrow. She hadn't been aware of that.

Shit.

Nice going Branwen.

Keep this up and you might as well parade around HQ dressed as Revenant while you're at it.

"Hmmmm," she says with a hungry smile as Dimah levels you with an intense stare. "Interesting."

"Though she's probably halfway to Hoots by now," you deflect, turning away, trying not to make a thing of it, or show her that she's gotten an interesting tidbit. Maybe she'll forget.

Ha.

Likely not, knowing your luck.

"What do we do now?"

"Don't kill civilians. Stay out of my head. Keep your promises. Do that and we're good.”

"I don't think either of us are," you point out as a knowing, brittle smile graces your lips.

"True," Argent admits with a tilt of her head. "But I try to be. Are you going to go after her?"

"Are you?" you counter as you turn back around to meet her gaze.

"No, we work together, I can see her any time. You should, though."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She grins. "Anything keeping you here?"

“Later," you say with a smirk, feeling a bit devious. "I don't want Ortega to think she's indispensable."

"She already thinks that," Lady Argent says with a chuckle. "But you do you. I've got work to do, don't let the door hit you on the way out."

The kiss on your cheek is softer than you deserve.

"I'll be in touch," you murmur as you touch your cheek. That... was not how you expected today to go. You're not quite sure what to make of it yet, but you've got time to figure it out. How to twist it to your advantage. Will it be strings you can pull or a rope that will hang you?

Right now you have no idea.

**Malayopython Reticulatus, Archilochus Colubris, and Micrurus Fulvius**

You’re still awake.

You’ve been awake for the last two hours.

It hasn’t quite sunk in yet despite the evidence right beside you.

But no, there they are. Right here in front of you. In the same bed.

A shudder worms its way from your stomach, but you crush it before it reaches your shoulders.

Carefully, you slip from the bed, tiptoe around Kataba and Dimah, and then slink into the hallway. Restlessness creeps along your spine like the point of a knife and you find yourself in your living room, staring out at Los Diablos.

You feel lost? No. That’s not it. It’s hard to describe. Longing? Maybe. No. Fondness? That sounds… closer. Not quite on the mark. It feels fragile and you can’t stop your eyes from watering.

So you don’t.

You let them water and let the tears run down your cheeks, not even bothering to wipe them away. Small mercies you don't have your glasses on right now, you suppose.

“A-Ax,” a voice croaks.

You flinch, whirling around as your heart hammers in your chest.

You rub your eyes, wondering if what you’re seeing is real.

“K,” you murmur.

Her tongue flickers out in response.

“Al-Alex,” she says.

A wave of vertigo hits you and you carefully lower yourself on the crowd, settling into cross legged sitting position.

Despite her bulk, K silently closes the distance between the two of you before settling down in her own coils.

You quietly wait, but K doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else.

Curious, you focus on the bond but find it strangely still like the undisturbed surface of a pond.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” you softly ask.

A tongue flickers out in response.

You sigh, looking down at the ground, mindless of how it hurts your neck. With an inhale, you raise your head back up as you close your eyes, mind turning towards the four back in your bedroom.

Julia has admitted, on more than one occasion, that she just wanted the both of you to be happy. Is this what she meant? Is this what she wanted? A cuckoo. Not even human. A villain. A thief. A traitor.

Something curls in your throat, tight and foreign. You trap it there, determined not to let it free.

You’re not human. You never were and never will be. Tattoos or not. You weren’t built to be human and so it follows you aren’t capable of all the things humans can do.

But… you know she wasn’t lying. Neither of them were.

So, what does that mean? Where does that leave you? What are you?

To them, you’re enough. You know this and they know you know and both have their ways of reminding you. Little gestures here and there. It’s taken time.

You’re a broken mess, edges sharp enough to cut even the most careful of hands, fractures splintering everywhere. A shattered thing that was spat from a glass tank nineteen years ago.

You shudder and you don’t know if it’s because of the cold or something else. You don’t have time to decipher where it came from because a warm weight leans against you from all sides. Wordlessly, you lean back against her. Both of you stay there, like this, until dawn breaks over the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I took the plunge and it was a lot of fun.
> 
> I played a lot with the lore of _His Dark Materials_.
> 
> One of which concerned the sex of the daemons and how they relate to their human. Philip Pullman, the author, posed the idea that humans who have daemons that share the same sex as them could indicate that the human was homosexual. This obviously didn't take into consideration other sexualities so I rolled a dice to randomly determined each daemon's sex and went from there.
> 
> The second of which was the fact that boosts and mods could build up a tolerance for the pain caused by the separation between human and daemon. Cuckoos would obviously value ever shifting daemons because infiltration purposes. So, no rituals required here.
> 
> If you're wondering why I choose a bear for Ortega and a tiger for Argent, well... I didn't. Malin did when an anon asked how Malin would assign the FH cast as animals. ([citation](https://fallenhero-rebirth.tumblr.com/post/187214053091/if-youd-assign-the-fhr-cast-as-animals-which))
> 
> Anyway, I have a couple more ideas for concerning this particular sandbox but I'm feeling ambivalent whether or not I should write them.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to ask me any questions!
> 
> Have a good day now~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > _and like the moon,_   
_she had a side of her_   
_so dark, that even the stars_   
_couldn't shine on it;_   
_she had a side of her_   
_so cold, that even the sun_   
_couldn't burn it._
>> 
>> _\- Attitcus, Love Her Wild_   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I got Argent's personality right. I feel much more confident about Argent’s execution than Julia’s personality. Oof.

**Archilochus Colubris**

“That was idiotic; even for you.”

You don’t bother to answer her as you sink further into the couch, careless of the growing bloodstain.

Silence settles between the two of you. It’s tempting to give in; to let yourself drift off and away from the pain. Usually you’d retreat into Eden’s body, patch your body back up, maybe get some business done before falling asleep in your puppet’s body.

K would shift her shape and plop herself on your body, falling silent and still except for the occasional flicker of her forked tongue. In times like those, she would shut down her end of the bond. It reminded you of Julia’s mind; you know K is still there, but that’s all you can discern. It’s like skimming your fingers on the surface of a frozen lake, letting the warmth seep from your skin as the cold returns in kind with its own dainty claws.

Tonight, however, well… it looks like you’re breaking all your rules.

_Yes_, K whispers through the bond, agreeing with Argent.

Traitor.

Gently, Dimah lowers the makeshift cloth basket to the floor in between her paws. The tiger levels a glare at you as K starts to preen her singed feathers.

“And here I thought you didn’t want to play the hero,” Dimah mocks.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know how,” you retort, raising an eyebrow at Ximena’s daemon. She chuffs, throwing you an annoyed look.

Argent steps into view, medical supplies in hand. The couch sinks when she sits on it and panic freezies your heart before your mind can catch up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you turn your face away from her, face planting it into a pillow.

“You mind?” Argent asks.

With a grunt, you carelessly wave your hand. A spike of impatience echoes from Argent and you grunt out a “go ahead” before slumping back into the couch. And before she gets any bright ideas.

With a snort, Argent gently peels back your skinsuit. You hiss, digging your fingers into the cushion. It’s not like you haven’t been injured like this before, but it’s the first time you’ve had someone take care of you like this.

You’re vulnerable.

You both are.

Argent could easily kill you. Dimah could easily swallow K whole if she craved a snack. Your back is exposed to her and you’re in no position to try to defend yourself. That doesn’t bother you. What does is the fact that she’s seen you. By your own hand. Argent knows what -.

No.

She knows _who_ you really are.

And she doesn’t... care?

No. That doesn’t sound right.

It’s hard to pinpoint.

It’s almost like it’s not important. Albeit, in the grander scheme of things. Which is a fancy way of saying you. You, as a person?, are the grand scheme. The tattoos? To her, they’re just a part of you. Your tattoos are as inconsequential to her as a tiger’s stripes would be when prey has more important things to worry about when the predator is bearing down on its heels. Teeth, claws, escaping. Although, perhaps not necessarily in that order.

You didn’t bother to dig into her thoughts back then.

Besides, you don’t think you have enough energy to dip into her thoughts right now.

That’s ignoring the fact that you don’t particularly want to. All you can do is focus on it. Like squinting at a landmark in the distance. It’s not like you want to focus on the pain you're in anyway.

Her mind is quiet. Undisturbed.

Even so, still waters run deep.

And you have first hand knowledge that there are sharks swimming in those tumultuous depths.

You blink, snapping out of your daze, as you notice she's done putting you back together.

“Where’s your bed?” Argent asks.

If you didn't know better you'd think that that was concern rippling the waters of her mind.

You're still not used to that. Any and all of it. The quiet intensity, the sincere concern.

These moments are like a knife in your body before your brain catches up. All you register is the coldness of the blade and the wrongness of it being there and then the pain comes. This isn't a knife. You're not in danger of feeling the cold bite of the knife or the scorching pain as your brain finally registers the reality.

But it catches you off guard all the same.

Slowly, you turn your head to face her, making sure to have your smirk in plain view. “You could’ve just asked.”

Argent snorts. “Suit yourself. I’ll see myself to the kitchen.”

**Micrurus Fulvius**

“You’re still here.”

Argent gives you a look from the recliner. One you certainly recognize. The one where she questions your sanity. Or, sometimes, lack thereof.

Either way, it’s a familiar look in an unfamiliar situation.

“Why did you do it?” she asks.

You can’t help but grope for an answer. Argent is not Steel or Ortega. She already knows who you are. All of you. So, that means you can be honest, right? You feel like you owe it to her. She did patch you up, after all.

“Habit, I guess,” you say, letting your unspoken question go.

For now.

“That’s it?”

You give the approximation of a shrug.

“I’m a thief, not a robber. I don’t kill innocents if I can help it. I -” You swallow. “I don’t need to do that anymore.”

You feel her curiosity brush against your mind, but it’s quickly replaced with worry. The pain in your side clues you in quick.

“Here.” Painkillers. And a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

You pop the pills into your mouth and end up drinking the entire glass.

“So, why are you still here?”

Argent snorts.

“I doubt your secretary knows how to patch up a burn victim.”

“You met Savannah?”

“You remember her name?”

You quirk your eyebrow up in lieu of a verbal response.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” you tease as a sly grin lights your face.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Probably for the best,” you acknowledge as you settle back down into the couch, eyeing the plate of brownies on the coffee table. You reach out and pluck one off of the plate, popping it into your mouth.

“I’ve probably run out of my luck for today, anyhow.”

Silence blooms between the two of you and it’s comforting. You’re too exhausted right now to put on any of your masks, to keep up appearances. It almost reminds you of Dr. Mortum. And you don’t hesitate to push that particular thought away.

Eventually, you feel Argent’s curiosity brush against your senses. For once, however, it’s not directed at you.

K pulls herself up onto the couch cushions and slithers into the crook of your neck. Gently, you raise your awareness through the bond, like a snake raising its head from its coils, curiosity flickering in and out. No fangs or venom this time. Besides, you’re both immune to each other’s particular brand of venom.

“Something on your mind?” you ask.

“Does it hurt?” Argent asks, voice surprisingly steady.

“Not anymore.” You shrug. “It’s just the way it is now.”

K snuggles further into your neck. Dimah has, somehow, prowled over without you knowing. You let it go. Still, old habits die hard and K flickers out her tongue in response to the tiger’s sudden appearance. The only response either of you feel like giving.

And then the thought taps at the back of your skull, like someone politely knocking at the backdoor. Soft, yet insistent.

“Don’t the Rangers need their teammates by now?” you ask as you raise your eyebrow at her, juggling your gaze between Argent and Dimah.

Argent snorts.

“Unlike some people, I have a life outside of the Rangers. Like rescuing dumbass thieves.”

This time, you snort.

“Guilty as charged.” You pause. “What happened?”

“Before or after you decided to be a hero?”

“After.”

Argent shrugs. “Civilians are safe, except for some minor injuries. Thanks to you. You’re the only one who got the worst of it.”

You snort. “Sounds about right.”

“Next time, don’t expect me to save your ass,” Argent says as she stands up.

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” you ask as she and Dimah prowl away.

Argent pauses at the door of your apartment, looking over her shoulder, smirk proudly on display.

“Don’t bleed to death while I’m gone,” Argent says as she opens the door and steps through. “Oh and you better be ready to go the next time we meet. Who knows? Maybe there’ll be a reward in it for you.” 

And then leaves with a wink and a kiss, shutting the door softly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have two ideas left for this sandbox, but I'm not sure on the execution quite yet.
> 
> If you've got any ideas, feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> Have a lovely day.


End file.
